


It's Been 84 Years

by literaryempress



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Academy Awards, Arguing, Award Winners, Boyfriends, Childhood Memories, Dating, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Makeup, Memories, Men Crying, Movie Reference, Sick Character, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-24 02:07:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6137668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryempress/pseuds/literaryempress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey doesn't understand why Ian's up in the middle of the night watching <em>Titanic</em> in a very emotional state. More than that, Mickey doesn't understand the big fuss around Leonardo DiCaprio's long-awaited Oscar win - until he ends up watching <em>Titanic</em> himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Been 84 Years

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bellafarella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellafarella/gifts).



Mickey had gone to sleep early on Sunday, trying to fight off his cold. The end of winter was near, though there were days where Chicago decided to twist it all around and have another dreaded snow day. Mickey just so happened to be in one of those snow storms this past month, hence the cold he got a few days prior to today.

When he woke up in the middle of the night, he could hear the television in the other room. Svetlana and Yevgeny had to be asleep at this point – the former works three jobs, almost, for Christ’s sake – so the only other suspect had to be Ian.

Sure enough, Mickey found his boyfriend sitting in front of the television in the very dark living room. Mickey frowned as he heard some sniffles coming from the redhead. The television in front of him was playing some kind of movie – _Titanic_ , Mickey presumes.

 _Why the fuck’s Ian watching Titanic in the middle of the fucking night_ , is all that was running through Mickey’s mind.

“Ian?” Mickey asked sleepily. He didn’t get an answer at first. Ian sniffled some more when he saw Leonardo DiCaprio holding onto Kate Winslet on a ship. “Ian?” Mickey tried once again, his nose ready to give up on him.

When he still didn’t get a response, Mickey rounded the couch and crouched down so he could get a better look at Ian’s face. His eyes were completely red, and streams of tears were all over his cheeks. _The hell’s he crying and watching Titanic for_ , Mickey wondered.

“It’s fucking over.” Mickey turned his head towards Ian from the television screen, his curiosity intensifying with the croak of Ian’s voice.

“What are you talking about? Come to bed.”

“It’s fucking over, Mickey.”

“What’s fucking over? Ian, you’re freakin’ me out, man.”

“It’s been over twenty fucking years.”

“Ian, what the –“

“It’s been over twenty years, and now it’s fucking over!”

Mickey ran a hand over his face in exhaustion. “Jesus Christ.”

“You don’t get it, Mick. You just don’t get it.”

“Damn right, I don’t fucking get it,” Mickey barked at him. “It’s past midnight, and you’re crying your freckled butt off in a dark ass room watching fucking _Titanic_.”

“They played him for a fool for years, Mickey,” Ian barked back, turning his body so he was facing his boyfriend. “They thought he wasn’t good enough to get what he deserved for the past twenty years. Those people ought to be ashamed of themselves.”

Mickey wasn’t sure how long he could take this. Ian wasn’t giving him any helpful hints to what was happening, and even if he was, he couldn’t quite understand them too well.

“Ian, just – fucking tell me what’s going on.”

The redhead didn’t respond; his eyes fell from Mickey’s to his lap, playing around with the hem of his boxers. Mickey sighed, scooting himself closer to Ian and wrapping an arm around him. They didn’t speak for the next couple of minutes, for Mickey wanted Ian to calm down first. He wasn’t even sure why the younger man was so overly emotional anyways. It’s just a damn movie.

Finally, Ian wiped the remaining tears off his face, his head still leaning against Mickey’s shoulder. The next couple of words almost made Mickey laugh, and he didn’t know why. “Leo got his Oscar tonight.”

That’s what all of this was about? Leonardo getting an Oscar caused the tears to fall down Ian’s face? Leonardo getting an Oscar is the reason he’s crying at fuck o’clock while watching goddamn _Titanic_?

“You’re not serious, are you?”

“I am fucking serious.”

“So I had to drag my sick ass out of bed to check on you, and you’re crying over a guy with a gold trophy?” Mickey asked out of disbelief. “Really, Ian? Anybody can get one of those –“

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Ian asked, lifting his head off Mickey’s shoulder and frowning in his face.

Maybe that was the wrong choice of words to use in front of Ian.

“Ian, don’t take it too seriously, man.”

“Over twenty years of Leo sitting in the sidelines just so he can get his big break is something to not take seriously?”

Neither one of them said anything after that. Ian had paused the movie on the television before grabbing his blanket and tissues and heading into the bedroom. “I can’t fucking believe you sometimes.”

Mickey’s mouth was agape at the sight of Ian walking away. “Seriously? Come on, Ian. Do you have to be like that?”

The door slammed shut. Mickey sat in the darkness for another few seconds before calling, “you’re gonna get my fucking germs on you!” No response.

After a moment, Mickey just sighed and headed back in the room to get some sleep.

* * *

“I’m gonna tell you right now,” Veronica told Ian as she poured some liquor for herself in the Gallagher kitchen, “you two fight over the most fucked-up things. I can’t talk because Kev and I are sometimes like that, but you two are ridiculous.”

She had a point about that. Ian remembered the last time he and Mickey got into a petty ass argument over who, between Robert Downey Jr. and Channing Tatum, would win in a fight. Mickey made Ian sleep on the couch that day – one of the coldest days of the month, Ian might add.

Ian had Liam on his lap on the couch, occasionally tickling the little boy and playing with his fire truck. “But you see what I’m talking about, though, right?” he asked Veronica from the living room. Fiona entered the living room through the kitchen, listening to the two of them go back and forth until Ian addressed her. “Remember, Fiona? Remember when we watched that movie for the first time?”

Fiona’s eyebrows rose at the distant memory. “Monica had that movie on DVD since after Ian was born,” she spoke, mainly addressing Veronica in the other room, “and whenever she would watch it, I would sneak Ian in the room and watch the ship crash against the waves of the water.” She sighed. “Childhood memories, am I right?”

Veronica huffed, entering the living room with a glass of wine in her hand.

“And even with one of the best performances in his lifetime,” Ian explained, “he still didn’t get awarded for it. Not for _Titanic_ , not for _Gatsby_ , not for _Wall Street_ –“

“I didn’t like that one.”

“Fiona –“

“I’m serious. He doesn’t suit black hair.” Ian rolled his eyes before turning away from his sister to rest his back against the back of the couch.

“I don’t know what the hell the fuss is about,” Veronica confessed, “as much as I love the man myself. Shit, it’s been almost ninety years since the Oscars first aired, and it’s always a white winner anyway. Leo’s twenty plus years is a cake walk.”

Ian ran a hand through Liam’s hair. He understood where Veronica was coming from. Opportunities were usually granted upon people who were fortunate enough to retrieve them. Even living in the South Side all of his life made Ian realize how fortunate yet unfortunate he really was. The Gallaghers were still broke and surviving on Fiona’s Patsy’s job, and Lip was trying to do his best in college. At the same time, at least they weren’t sitting on a sidewalk, asking for change like the people downtown.

“Regardless, though, Ian,” Fiona stepped in, sitting on the couch beside him and running a hand through his red hair, “this shouldn’t be one of those things that’s long term. Plus, coming from a fan of Leo’s work, I also get what Mickey’s talking about.”

“You’re one of them now?”

Fiona giggled. “No, but as your big sister, I’m telling you to just respect Mickey for his thoughts. I mean, he’s not like us. He’s not into the same things as we are, you know? So, of course, he’s not gonna understand. You get what I mean?” Ian nodded, looking down at the back of Liam’s head.

They were silent for a moment before Fiona snickered out of nowhere, clearly deep in her thoughts. “Imagine Mickey watching _Titanic_ , though,” she spoke again.

“I can’t,” Veronica replied, drinking the rest of the wine in her glass.

“Ian would only be so lucky to get him to watch the fucking _Notebook_ ,” Fiona laughed, and Veronica bit back a smile. Surprisingly enough, Ian did try to get Mickey to watch _The Notebook_ once, only to be turned down half a second later with the excuse that _The Notebook_ was “too fucking girly for me.”

“Kev found my copy of _Titanic_ on DVD before I gave birth to the twins,” Veronica started, strolling over to the chair and placing her glass on the coffee table, “and I swear to God, it was like he was the hormonal one. He had snot coming out of his nose and shit…” Fiona was at the point where she could no longer control her laugher.

“Hell, I found him one morning eating a bin of fucking mint ice cream and Nilla Wafers, talking about _why the fuck would these people do this to me?_ ” At the sound of Veronica imitating a hysterically depressed Kevin Ball, both Fiona and Ian started laughing out loud. Ian never saw Kev behave like that over a movie, but if he did, it would probably be the trending topic for probably the next couple of days.

Ian could only imagine, if Kev was like that, what Mickey would look like watching it, too.

* * *

Mickey didn’t understand, for the life of him, why it was hot and cold at the same time. He had to cover himself and make sure he was warm enough to recover, but the bed sheets were also too much for him as well. There were times where he wanted ice water, and then there were times where it was too cold for it.

His body stopped cooperating properly the moment he got sick. He couldn’t even sleep normally without having some sort of headache. His nose would also feel funny when he was lying down on his back. Being sick was torture on him, and he wanted so badly to get rid of his sickness.

Ian was still out of the house that day – he was probably still upset about the damn Leo thing from last night – so Mickey got up out of the bed to grab something to eat. Unfortunately, for him, Ian hadn’t prepared anything beforehand, and Svetlana and Yevgeny were out for the day, so Svetlana couldn’t cook. That left Mickey with Lucky Charms, leftover hot dogs, a bin of cookies and cream ice cream, and a package of hot chocolate. Great.

Not really sure on what he particularly wanted, he took out the bin of ice cream and prepared the last of the hot chocolate. They contrasted with each other greatly, but at this point, he didn’t give a shit.

He headed over to the couch with a bowl of ice cream for himself, and as soon as sat down on the cushion, he spotted the DVDs Ian had out on the coffee table. The _Titanic_ movie was still here, along with _The Great Gatsby_ , _Romeo and Juliet_ , and _Inception_. Damn Gallagher always leaving his stuff scattered around the house.

Mickey grabbed the disc from the _Titanic_ DVD case and observed it for a couple of seconds before placing the movie in the DVD player. He really wanted to know what the hell was so special about this movie, why people made such a fuss about this guy. It didn’t make sense to him.

The hot chocolate was done in the kitchen, and Mickey made a move to get it, along with a blanket from his room, before he pressed play on the DVD remote.

* * *

Ian came back to the Milkovich house about an hour later, letting his family know that he was going to check on his boyfriend and see if he needed something to eat or maybe some more medicine. Once Ian came back, though, he found Mickey lying on the couch with his blanket over him. The television was on, and Ian recognized the sounds on the television screen.

“ _There’s a boat, Jack. Jack?_ ”

Ian stood by the door for a couple of seconds, keeping quiet in case Mickey heard him enter the room. Soon after, Ian heard some sniffles coming from the older man, and they sure as hell didn’t sound like sick sniffles.

The redhead slowly walked past the couch, keeping his eyes on Mickey in case he were to look up and find him watching. On the coffee table was a half-eaten bin of cookies and cream ice cream – most of it appeared to be melted, but not all of it – and an empty mug of hot chocolate. Mickey’s tear-soaked eyes were glued to the television, and he was bundled up under the blankets.

Ian didn’t imagine Mickey watching the movie like this.

He quietly walked in the kitchen to grab a can of soup from the cupboards – _he’s probably hungry right now and didn’t notice the canned goods up here_ , Ian presumed – and a pot to place the soup and water in. As he prepared some soup for the sick Milkovich, the man in question rose from off the cushion of the couch, turning his head and noticing Ian from afar.

“When the fuck did you get back?”

“Just now.”

Mickey turned from Ian to look at the television screen, realizing that the movie was still playing, and he stopped it altogether and wiped the tears off his face. The sudden silence in the room alerted Ian’s senses. “You don’t have to turn it off.”

“The fuck do you mean?”

“I know you were watching it.”

Of course, because there was no way Mickey could get past Ian with anything anymore.

Ian let the soup cook in the kitchen as he joined Mickey on the couch. They didn’t say anything to each other for a few seconds, but Mickey was the one to break the silence between them. “I know what you’re gonna say –“

“What, that you were a complete asshole the other day?”

Mickey shrugged. “Something like that.”

Ian nodded. “Actually, I was gonna say sorry myself.” Mickey frowned. “I overreacted a little last night –“

Mickey snickered. “No kidding.”

Ian smiled, mainly to himself, and allowed Fiona’s memory of she and Ian watching _Titanic_ with Monica fill his mind. “I watched _Titanic_ since I was about three or four.” Mickey turned his head and softened a bit. “Monica would watch it in the living room, and Fiona would always tell me to go to sleep _because Mom told us to_ or some shit like that.” Mickey giggled a bit. “But Fiona knew how energetic I was and agreed that she would sneak me behind the couch to watch it if I stayed quiet.” A beat. “Monica eventually caught onto us, but that’s besides the point.”

Mickey knew how dysfunctional Ian’s family was and sympathized with the Gallaghers after hearing about how they were raised. Neither Monica nor Frank were anything like Mickey’s own father – they at least didn’t beat their kids on a daily basis or sold guns for a living – but they were still pretty bad, especially with Monica leaving the house numerous times or Frank drinking his organs away. Hearing about simpler, happy times like this made Mickey even sadder considering that he never had any moments like that. If he had any with his mother, he wouldn’t remember any of them, nor would he ever get to have any again.

“Sorry.” Mickey mumbled under his breath, still deep in his thoughts. When he sensed Ian turning his head towards him, Mickey continued. “I didn’t know what the movie meant to you and all that stuff.” He paused. “And I’m not gonna lie; I still don’t see the point of this dude, either.”

“Yeah,” Ian chuckled. “I get that.”

Mickey played around with the blanket in his lap with his fingers. “I almost finished the whole thing today. You know, I was trying to understand the point of it all and shit.” Ian nodded. “It’s…not bad.”

Ian nodded again, but he didn’t let the smirk slip away. “Not bad enough to get tears out of you.”

“Fuck off.”

The couple started to laugh light-heartedly. The soup in the kitchen was boiling loudly, so Ian went to put it in a bowl to give to Mickey. When he returned to the living room, he placed the soup on the coffee table and the spoon inside the bowl before heading back in the kitchen to retrieve a glass of water. Mickey carefully picked the soup bowl up and took a sip of the soup with his spoon.

“Shit’s hot, man.” Mickey complained, putting the soup bowl back down and almost burning his finger.

“Don’t hurt yourself, Mick.” Ian said, coming back to the couch with his water.

“Thanks for letting me know now, jackass.”

Ian laughed, sitting next to his sick boyfriend and watching him drink some of the cold water in the glass. “You know we’re gonna need to buy some more ice cream, right?”

Mickey turned his head towards the abandoned carton of ice cream on the other side of the coffee table, noticing the melted remains inside. He sheepishly turned to Ian and scratched the back of his head. “Sorry man.”

“Quit fuckin’ apologizing. Jeez.”

“I can’t be an asshole all my life, man. Come on.” He smiled as he saw Ian’s cheeks turn a bright red. Fuck him for being a lovable son of a bitch.

“We’ll buy more later on,” Ian stated, scooting closer to Mickey and bringing an arm around the shorter man’s body, “after we go on our date once you get better.”

Mickey inched an eyebrow in his direction. “Oh really? You taking me out, Gallagher?”

“Yeah,” Ian answered. “ _The Revenant_ is still out, and I wanna see it, but we have to watch the rest of these Leo movies first.”

“How many of them are there? We’re not gonna have time for that shit before the movie’s out of the fuckin’ theater.”

“You’ll probably be sick for another two or three days, if our timing is right and you take enough medicine and stuff,” Ian calculated with a shrug. “We’ll have time to watch them all – or at least most of them.”

Mickey nodded, pondering it over for a moment before making a decision. “Okay. It’s a date.”

Ian’s grin was so wide that, if it was made into a boomerang, it would cut the necks off of five people from a distance. Mickey loved that smile. He loved seeing Ian happy. The redhead leaned in on Mickey, prepared to give him a kiss, but Mickey back away as fast as he could.

“Hold up, man. I’m not getting you sick before our date.”

Ian stuck out his bottom lip. “But I want a kiss.”

“Not while my fuckin’ nose is stuffed, Gallagher.”

“Miiiiiiick.” Ian whined, and Mickey belly-laughed at the sight of his boyfriend acting like a big baby.

“I’ll be kissing you and shit on our date anyway, Gallagher,” Mickey responded, getting his laughs under control. “Now come on. Let’s watch the rest of this shit.”

Reluctantly letting the kiss slip from their conversation, Ian glanced over to the DVD cases on the coffee table in front of them. “Which one do you wanna watch next?” he asked Mickey, who followed Ian’s gaze towards the DVDs.

“I don’t know. What’s _The Great Gatsby_ about?”

“It’s based on a book by…F. Scott Fitzgerald.”

Mickey frowned. “The dude’s name is Fuck Scott Fitzgerald?”

Ian deadpanned in his direction, reminded of the time Mickey got too into _Ted 2_ one Friday evening. “You fucking dick.” Mickey turned in his direction and smiled knowingly, aware that Ian got the joke.

As Mickey’s laughter completely died down, he went back to Ian’s previous response. “Don’t I have to fuckin’ read the book to watch this shit, though?”

“You don’t have to.” Ian shrugged. “I mean, honestly, did you think anyone from my school read _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_ before watching the movie?”

Mickey shrugged. “No idea what that is, but you’re fucking right.” Ian rolled his eyes at Mickey’s lack of knowledge on Shakespeare plays.

Ian took the DVD out of _The Great Gatsby_ case and placed it in the DVD player in place of the _Titanic_ DVD. Mickey adjusted himself on the couch again, grabbing one of the couch pillows to rest his head. Before he was completely settled in, Ian spoke, “come here.” Mickey turned to him and frowned, but Ian took off his shoes and swung his legs up so they were on the couch. “Come here,” Ian tried again.

This time, Mickey couldn’t resist, and he placed his head against Ian’s chest and smiled to himself as the movie started to play.

Thirty minutes into the film, Mickey was the first one to speak. “This dude didn’t get a fuckin’ Oscar for this?”

Ian nodded. “That and almost all of the other films he was in.”

Mickey grumbled and folded his arms as he glued his eyes to the screen. “Fuckin’ rip off, man.”

**Author's Note:**

> After Sunday night, I couldn't not write this.
> 
> Catherine (bellafarella), if you're reading this, you're welcome. ;)


End file.
